


Depth of Winter

by 13th_blackbird



Series: Winterverse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Blanket Fic, Canadian Shack, Canon-Typical Violence, Competence Kink, Eli saves the day, First Kiss, First Time, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, Wilderness Survival, bridal carry, but like in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13th_blackbird/pseuds/13th_blackbird
Summary: Stranded after a shuttle crash on a harsh, wintery planet, Thrawn and Eli must make it back to civilization. But even after they survive the cold, they'll have to reckon with the treachery that landed them there in the first place.--"Now, back to the issue at hand, which was that Thrawn was sleeping next to him, practically on top of him. And Eli was, he suddenly realized, mostly undressed. Which he had definitely not done himself. Godsdamnit, he swore to himself. It was fine. Just every fantasy he’d ever had over the past two years coming true all at once in the most idiotic way possible."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "I wish there was some stranded-in-the-harsh-wilderness Thrawn/Eli fic," I thought to myself. Here I am, 8,000 words later, because my tropes demanded a plot to nest in.

This wasn’t going to go down in the logs as one of their more interesting assignments. It seemed like a waste of time, sending the Chimera out to the middle of nowhere, to an icy, barren world like Vria, and Eli had said as much when they’d received the directive. But their orders to check up on Vria Outpost came from their ISB contacts, not from Central Command.

“Vria, despite its harsh conditions, is home to several veins of doonium,” Thrawn had said. “Initial survey work has been slower than anticipated, and they suspect the Outpost’s commander of black market dealings. Our unique skills in this area have been well-noted.”

 _The reward for being good at what you do is just more of the same,_ Eli thought. They’d been given what felt like several tours of the small outpost with its meager staff. Vria’s harsh, wintery conditions made the whole place feel claustrophobic, and the outpost’s commander, a man named Jurgen Whitsun, made it even more unwelcoming. He was a thin, tall blonde man in his forties with a permanent sneer, and Eli thought he recognized the surname from the Coruscant elite — some senator, he thought, shared it. The Commander greeted them with exacting politeness and protocol, offered the bare minimum acceptable level of hospitality, and generally made his disdain with their inquiries obvious. But so far, they hadn’t been able to find any evidence of wrongdoing, and a senior officer with a chip on his shoulder was annoying, but not actionable, so they were heading back with nothing to report except a very cold, very boring week.

Their shuttle pilot, who’d introduced himself as Ensign Cas Zavir, seemed more excited than he should for a simple run from the outpost to the Chimera. “The usual pilot couldn’t make it,” he explained to Eli, as they waited for Thrawn to arrive. “I’ve never even been _near_ a Star Destroyer,” he said. “Just got my commission from Myomar.”

“I was at Myomar,” Eli said.

“And now you’re on the _Chimera_?” the Ensign said, admiringly. “I guess there’s hope for me after all.”

Despite his bad mood, Eli smiled at him. “Yeah, definitely,” he said. He hoped he’d never come across as quite _that_ green, but he suspected otherwise.  

\--

Eli and Thrawn were quiet as the shuttle raced over the dark, snowy forests of Vria. They’d keep their assessments of the week to themselves until they were safely back on the Chimera. Eli knew it galled Thrawn as much as it did him that they’d found nothing of note.

The shuttle lurched. Eli ignored it. The weather was unpredictable here, and the winds were often strong. It was a relief to be leaving.

The shuttle shuddered again, this time with a grinding metallic sound that made Eli’s stomach twist.

“What--?” Eli heard the Ensign say, but it was cut off as the shuttle started to drop again, losing altitude frighteningly fast.

“I’m losing power,” the Ensign said, all trace of good humor gone from his voice. “I’m going to have to land.”

Eli looked at Thrawn, who wore the same calm expression as usual.

“Can you land _here_?” Eli demanded, looking down at the rough terrain.

“Have to try,” the Ensign said. “I’d brace if I were you.”

 

\--

 

The first thing Eli thought was that it was colder than usual, and he’d been cold since they’d arrived on Vria. The Chimera’s environmental controls were always set to a temperature too low for a Lysatran from the southern regions, but this was—

He opened his eyes and remembered. He wasn’t on the Chimera. They’d been on a shuttle...And then…his mind wandered again.

Gradually he became aware of something _loud_. An alarm, screeching mindlessly, over and over—

He startled, suddenly remembering everything all at once: they’d crashed. It was all a jumble of shattering metal, the adrenaline of falling, the acrid scent of smoke.

Smoke. The shuttle was on fire. Eli was still strapped in, and almost of their own accord, his hands were moving to unbuckle the chest restraints. White-hot pain shot through his shoulder as he did so, a familiar scraping feeling. _Collarbone’s broken,_ Eli thought, noting it like it was someone else’s injury. He’d broken it on the same side when he was a kid; the long-healed fracture must not have been able to stand up to the impact slamming him against the restraints. He ignored it, grimacing and clutching his arm to his chest, trying not to move it too much, undoing the restraints one-handed.

Thrawn was sprawled in the jump seat next to his, limp against his own restraints.

“Sir,” Eli said. His voice was hoarse, he noted. He vaguely remembered screaming as they crashed. “Sir!”

Thrawn’s eyelids flickered, and he muttered something unintelligible, not Sy Bisti or Basic. His native tongue, Eli knew, he’d heard a few words of it over the years he’d worked with the Chiss, only ever in truly dire situations. Thrawn had never offered to teach Eli the language.

“Sir, you’ve got to get out of the restraints,” Eli yelled, over the still-shrieking alarm. With his good arm, he pulled his collar over his mouth, trying not to breathe in the smoke that was starting to fill the cabin.

Thrawn’s eyes opened, and Eli sighed in relief. “Lieutenant Commander Vanto—?” Thrawn said. Eli saw his own initial confusion reflected in his commanding officer’s face, quickly shunted aside as he caught up with what had happened. Thrawn began to fumble with his own restraints, and Eli nodded sharply before moving on.

He paused, reaching for where the emergency beacon should have been, behind the pilot’s seat. The spot was empty. It couldn't have fallen out in the crash, they were supposed to be indestructible. He felt around on the floor anyway. Nothing.

He fought his way through the smoke and his own confusion to the front of the shuttle and stared. Their pilot -- Ensign Zavir-- was dead, slumped against the controls, a sharp piece of the wreck shoved through his chest. _He wasn’t even supposed to be on this run,_ Eli thought, numbly.

He shook his head. No time for that. He grimly stripped the ensign’s weapon from his hip and reaching over the ruined console, one-handed, to grab the emergency pack from where it was stowed. Even trying to be careful, the weight of it pulled at his injured side, and he gritted his teeth to hold back a moan. He paused to collect the ensign’s rank cylinder and, as he pulled it from the uniform, he noticed something else. A pendant around his neck, something hand-carved. It looked like the style of the native people of this world. from what they’d seen of it. Ensign Zavir’s family would have little enough left of him. Eli took it as well.

He threw the pack onto the snow from the half-open hatch in the side of the shuttle. Thrawn was already waiting on the ground, a few feet below. Eli was going to have to jump, and it was going to hurt. He steeled himself and went for it, the impact jarring the broken bone. Even bracing for it, preparing for it, hadn’t helped. He sprawled, winded, in the snow, looking up at the wreck. He could see the flames from the aft section now spreading toward the cockpit, throwing crazed shadows on the dark trees around them. How had they _survived_ that?

“Lieutenant Commander?” Thrawn asked, voice urgent.

“I’m—“ Eli gasped as he sat up. “I’m okay. I just—I’m pretty sure my collarbone’s broken.”

Thrawn knelt on the snow beside him, running his hands delicately over the injury. Eli shivered. “Yes,” he said. “It is.”

“You're going to have to splint it,” Eli said. “We’re going to be walking. There's no emergency beacon in there, I checked.”

Thrawn nodded. “I noted that the shuttle’s controls were dead as well, and my comm isn't working.” He demonstrated, tapping it and getting nothing but the hiss of static. Eli frowned. That was next to impossible. “We’ll need to get back to the outpost to contact the Chimera and for medical attention.”

While he spoke, he pressed against the fracture in Eli’s shoulder, aligning it. His inhuman strength at least made this faster, if not less painful. Sweat, despite the cold, dripped into Eli’s eyes and he blinked it away. Thrawn fashioned a makeshift sling out of gauze from the pack, setting Eli’s right arm close to his chest, immobilizing the break as much as they could with what they had.

“I apologize,” Thrawn said, looking away from Eli’s pained expression.

“It’s fine,” Eli said, after he caught his breath. “Had to be done. Are you injured?” He wiped the sweat from his face with his good hand. Silence for a few crucial moments.

“Not seriously,” the reply finally came. “Nothing broken, no wounds that would require sealing. But I believe, based on my brief period of unconsciousness and the disorientation that followed, that I’m suffering from a…” he hesitated, and used a Sy Bisti word.

“Concussion,” Eli defined. Thrawn wouldn’t admit it, but the fact that he had slipped out of using Basic twice now was a tell that he was in bad shape himself. “Probably both of us are, I was out, too.” He shivered again as the wind picked up. “We need to get moving. I’m not equipped for this temperature. I’m guessing there’s no emergency beacon in there either?” He gestured at the pack.

Thrawn shook his head. “There is some cold-weather gear and basic first-aid equipment. You should take the gear, I am used to these conditions.”

“Just like home, huh?” Eli said.

“This place _is_ remarkably like Csilla,” Thrawn allowed. He rarely spoke of his home world, but Eli had gleaned a little about it from stray comments. “I cannot say that the similarity means that I’m thinking fondly of it at present, however.”

“All right,” Eli said, standing up, shaking his head. They might as well be on the bridge of the Chimera, discussing the duty roster. Thrawn’s unshakable confidence was contagious, though.

Eli rifled through the supplies and found a lantern—fully charged—draped a blanket intended for shock victims as best as he could over his shoulders, awkward with this right arm immobile. Thrawn straightened it and pulled it into place for him, and Eli looked at him gratefully, feeling his face flush slightly. _This is a life-or-death scenario,_ Eli told himself sternly. _Not the time or the place._

He ripped open a medpack of stims and took one, letting the tab dissolve on his tongue, and offered the pack to Thrawn, who did the same. “I hate these,” Eli admitted. “They make me feel like I’m gonna jump out of my skin.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn agreed. “I also find them distasteful, but there is a reason that standard Imperial procedure advises taking them in situations like this.”

“Better jumpy as hells then passed out in the snow, I guess,” Eli said. “Do we know where we’re going?”

“Based on our vector out of the outpost, about four kilometers to the north.”

A four kilometer hike would have been nothing, usually, but in their current state, over unfamiliar terrain…but there was no other choice. ”Let’s get going, then,” Eli said.

Thrawn merely nodded and pointedly shouldered the pack when Eli reached for it. “I can carry it,” Eli protested.

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto, you will not be carrying this with a broken collarbone,” Thrawn said, mildly. “I will manage it.” He was already setting off into the trees, his gait halting slightly. Bruised or broken ribs, Eli thought. Not that Thrawn would admit to it.


	2. Chapter 2

They’d been walking for what felt like hours, and Eli could barely feel his feet. He  _ could _ feel his shoulder, throbbing with every step. The bobbing light of their feeble lantern played over the forest — black bare tree trunks, and everywhere, featureless white snowdrifts. 

And then, the light hit something terrible. 

Eli and Thrawn stood there, looking at the half-frozen river blocking their path. It was wide enough that the other side was invisible in the darkness. It looked sluggish, but deep, and Eli knew there was no way in any of the hells that they were getting across it. 

“Well,  _ shit, _ ” Eli offered. 

Thrawn muttered a particularly vicious curse in Sy Bisti. It wasn’t translatable into Basic, but Eli absolutely agreed with the sentiment. 

“We are not going to be able to get around this obstacle, clearly,” Thrawn said. There was a definite rough edge to his voice, which was as good as a scream of frustration, Eli knew. “It is unusual, Lieutenant Commander Vanto — have you noticed that no other shuttles have flown over this area? Standard procedure following the loss of a shuttle would be a routine grid search over the expected flight path.” 

Eli hadn’t considered that. “So no one’s looking for us,” he said. Now that they’d stopped moving, he was feeling the cold again. He shivered and started pacing. “Or, if someone  _ is  _ looking for us, it’s no one we want to run into.”

“That is what I suspect,” Thrawn said. His voice was neutral. 

Eli ran the lantern over the dark trees. If no one was looking for them, who had shot them down? It had to have been an attack, he decided. Or the shuttle was sabotaged. Either way, it would have required someone with knowledge of their flight plan. Inside knowledge. But none of that mattered until they could get back to the outpost. “Well, we could turn—“

“Wait, stop,” Thrawn said. “Back to where you were, Lieutenant Commander.” Eli turned the beam of light back over the same area, and caught the sight at the same time as Thrawn said, “There.” 

It was a small carving in one of the trees at eye height, the bark carefully scraped away, revealing the white wood underneath. A curving, graceful symbol that looked oddly familiar…Eli took the dead pilot’s pendant from his pocket. It was the same. 

“It’s the local symbol for…” Eli racked his brain. Someone had told them this, just mentioned it offhand. “Protection.” 

“Protection and hospitality, two important tenets of the local religion,” Thrawn elaborated. “And a directional symbol.” 

 

—

 

Their uniform boots weren’t meant for this kind of slog, and Eli’s feet and legs were soaked. They had passed a few more carvings, so they were supposedly on the right path, although they didn’t know to what. The stim was starting to wear off, and it was becoming more and more difficult to remember why just laying down in one of those drifts was a bad idea. 

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto.”

Just for a minute. Just to rest his legs, stop jolting his injury every second…

“Lieutenant Commander?”

They even looked comfortable. He wouldn’t even close his eyes. He’d just sit down, and—

“Eli!” 

Thrawn never called him by his first name. How long had he been trying to get Eli’s attention? He tried to reply, but he was shaking too hard to form words. That was odd, he wasn’t that cold. 

“I am sorry about this, Eli,” Thrawn was saying. Again, his first name. And suddenly, Eli’s view of the world shifted. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The sky? The deep black, spangled with stars, a few ragged wisps of cloud straggling across it. At least it wasn’t snowing. Something cold and hard was pressing into his cheek, and he struggled away from it, turning to see what it was.  _ Rank plaque?  _ he thought. Each thought felt monumentally slow in coming, like they were drifting into his mind from a long way off.  _ Admiral’s rank plaque. _

He wasn’t walking anymore. He was…being carried. Somewhere, distantly, Eli felt like that should be embarrassing, but he was too tired to care. He tore his gaze away from the sky, forced himself to focus closer. The Admiral’s face was feet from his, Eli realized, and he was—

“I can walk,” he said. Or tried to say. It came out unintelligible, slurred. He was sure he  _ could _ walk, though. Thrawn shouldn’t have to do this, he was injured too, and they were trying to…they had been trying to…

Thrawn was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against Eli’s body. Eli could see the steam of his breath. Odd, he’d thought about what it would be like to be this close to Thrawn, but now that it was happening, if it really was happening, he could barely concentrate on it. 

 

—

 

Someone was going to pay for this, Thrawn thought, as Eli — Lieutenant Commander Vanto, he corrected himself—finally went limp in his arms. He’d known that temperatures this low weren’t ideal for humans, and he’d had the same training in emergency medical assistance that all Imperial Academy graduates did. He knew about hypothermia. But it was one thing to know and another to watch Eli succumb to it, and not to be able to do anything. His aide’s weight and the weight of the supply pack were painful against his injuries, and awkwardly balanced besides, especially for the uneven, slippery ground, but if he was reading the symbols carved into the trees correctly, it shouldn’t be much longer—

The light from the lantern, still bright, hit the rough wooden wall of a crude shelter. A traveler’s way station, marked with the same symbol they’d been following since they’d found their way blocked by the river. 

The way station wasn’t much, barely more than a shack, but it was stocked with firewood, blankets, rations, a bed pallet built into one wall. It was solidly constructed. As soon as Thrawn was inside, with the door shut, it felt warmer already. He set Eli on the pallet and went about making a fire, ignoring the pain of his own injuries, and the oncoming crash from the stims that he could feel lurking. Grimly, knowing he’d pay for it with the aftereffects, he took the last one. Chiss didn’t need as much sleep as humans, normally, but injured, cold, and hiking over rough terrain, even he would be exhausted when the drug wore off. 

When the fire was adequately started, Thrawn turned to Eli and hesitated only a moment before stripping off his wet clothing. He would have been lying to himself if he hadn’t thought about doing this before, although, of course, he would have preferred it to happen under very different circumstances, and not because Eli’s life was in danger. He’d seen and admired the Lieutenant Commander’s body before, lean muscle, brown skin stippled with the markings he also displayed on his face.  _ Freckles, _ they were called. He allowed himself a grim smile, reminding himself to focus on the task at hand, even though the wisp of a plan had started to insinuate itself into his mind, underneath his exhaustion — and his anger. There’d be time for that plan when they got out of here. 

He covered Eli with all the blankets in the shack, stoked the fire even higher, and rummaged through the supply box built into the wall. There was an actual metal kettle there, and a stock of some kind of herbal tisane. Thrawn wasn’t one to argue with folk wisdom. Whatever was here was placed for exactly this purpose, or so it would have been on Csilla. He heated the water and prepared the tea, its spicy scent filling the tiny room.

Now that it was warmer, Eli’s ashen face had started to regain some color, Thrawn noted with satisfaction. In the infrared, it still wasn’t the right temperature, but, he thought, it seemed they had reached shelter in time to stave off the worst effects of the cold. 

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” Thrawn said, his voice seeming alarmingly loud after so many hours of silence. Eli stirred slightly, and Thrawn released a breath that he’d barely realized he’d been holding. He helped Eli sit up, trying not to jar his injured shoulder, and helped him drink. 

“Admiral?” Eli said, voice still thick with confusion. “Are we…back on the ship?” 

“No, but it is all right, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn said. “You can sleep.” 

“Oh, okay,” Eli said, eyes already closed. And then something else, almost unintelligible - “C’n call me Eli, y’know. Known me long enough…” He still shivered every few moments, but that was fine, it would help his body warm itself. 

“Indeed, Eli,” Thrawn said. 


	3. Chapter 3

Eli blinked, and the sky was replaced by rough wooden beams. That didn’t seem right, so he shut his eyes again. 

It actually felt  _ warm _ , and Eli relaxed into it. It felt like a giant hand was pressing his body into the ground anyway. He didn’t want to move. There was something odd about the bed, though. Eli shifted carefully — every muscle protesting even the slight movement — and opened his eyes to his commanding officer’s sleeping face, just inches from his own. 

Eli drew back, startled by the sight, and was rewarded with a lance of pain from his injured collarbone. And his mind, helpfully, started to fill in the pieces from the previous night for him. From now on, he was really going to appreciate waking up with full awareness of where he was and what had most recently happened to him, he thought ruefully. Definitely not taking that for granted anymore. 

One piece of memory stuck, though, even more than the hazy, half-remembered journey to the way station (had Thrawn really  _ carried _ him? That had to be a hallucination, he thought.) and that was Thrawn’s conclusion that no one had sent shuttles out looking for them. That the crash that had stranded them here had been deliberate. If that was true, it explained the difficulty they’d had with their comms. And the lack of an emergency beacon on their shuttle. Which meant that, even if… even  _ after  _ they got out of here, they were still going to be in danger.  _ Just once, it would be nice to have a routine mission go the way it was supposed to,  _ Eli thought. 

Now, back to the issue at hand, which was that Thrawn was sleeping next to him, practically on top of him. And Eli was, he suddenly realized, mostly undressed. Which he had definitely not done himself.  _ Godsdamnit, _ he swore to himself. It was fine. Just every fantasy he’d ever had over the past two years coming true all at once in the most idiotic way possible. 

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Thrawn sleeping. The Chiss didn’t have the same soft, vulnerable look that humans got when they slept. He still looked coiled to strike, ready to spring up and start giving orders. His face was bruised, dried blood blue-black on his temple. They were close enough in the tiny bed that Eli could feel the other’s heart beating, slower than his own. Despite that, and the pain in his shoulder, Eli fell asleep again. 

When he struggled up to wakefulness a second time, the light filtering in through the gaps in the wall seemed different. Was it late or early? it was hard to say. There was a long, low constant whistling sound, eerie and mournful. The fire in the small stove flickered and crackled in time with the wind. Eli’s body ached even more than it had the first time he’d awoken, the delayed result of being thrown into the shuttle’s restraints. 

He was alone in the tiny bed, but Thrawn wasn’t far away, sitting on the floor, the one flat, empty surface in the way station, head bent over something. “Commander Vanto,” Thrawn said without looking up. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been stepped on,” Eli said, grateful that they were just skipping over acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation entirely. Or maybe Thrawn didn’t consider it awkward at all, which was fine with Eli. “By something large. Repeatedly.”  _ It’s not like we had a choice, _ he thought.  _ He’s not going to sleep on the floor _ . 

“There are still painkillers in the medkit,” Thrawn said, adjusting something carefully. Eli could see in the dim light of their one lantern that he had disassembled both of their comms and was rewiring them. “You need to eat something.” 

Thrawn abandoned his work, setting it down and stepping over it to retrieve the supplies. Eli bit into a ration bar and barely tasted it, inhaling two of them in rapid succession and accepting a cup of something hot from Thrawn’s hands. The taste of it, reminiscent of cinnamon, brought back another hazy memory of the previous night, and Eli buried his face in the cup, hoping the steam would hide his blush from Thrawn’s infrared vision. 

“Hey, um, thanks for getting us here,” Eli said. “Sorry I was so useless.” 

“You were not,” Thrawn said, blinking at him. His red eyes were a bit dimmer than usual. “You were injured and hypothermic, and yet, if you had not recognized that symbol, we would not have known to come here.” 

Eli nodded, took the painkiller. “I need to treat your injuries, sir,” he said, after a moment. “I’m guessing you haven’t looked at them.” 

Thrawn set down his work again, sighing. “No,” he admitted. “I had an idea, and with the storm, I wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, but this  _ is _ delicate work and I am losing concentration. And I only have enough components for one attempt.” 

He handed Eli the medkit and Eli set about applying bacta patched to the worst bruises and cuts. Thrawn flinched as Eli covered the largest one, over Thrawn’s ribs.  _ Almost definitely cracked, _ Eli confirmed. He didn’t say it out loud, though. 

“Storm?” Eli asked. 

Thrawn looked grim. “It is snowing,” he said. 

_ Snowing  _ was an understatement. It was a blizzard, a complete white-out, Eli saw, when he peered out of the door of the shelter. 

“I thought the outpost commander said they had accurate weather reporting here,” Eli said, slowly. “He said yesterday was the optimal time for us to leave because they expected clear weather for the next week.” 

“Yes, he did,” Thrawn said, dryly. 

They met each other’s eyes. Such was their partnership, Thrawn reflected, that they didn’t have to voice their mutual conclusion. They simply knew. 

Eli cursed in Sy Bisti, using the same elegantly vulgar phrase Thrawn had used before. 

Thrawn nodded. “It is a long way from here to Coruscant,” he said. “Perhaps Commander Whitsun resents his…exile.” 

Eli thought about the man in charge of the outpost. He’d been unpleasant, definitely. Coruscant accent, typical Core-dweller attitude. None too happy about an alien admiral showing up and poking around in the workings of “his” station. Eli was used to all that. But sabotage? Murder of a commanding officer? 

“Elaborate way to go about it,” he said. But in a way, simple. Give them incorrect information about when to leave, jam their comms, shoot down the shuttle, then use the storm as an excuse not to send out search and rescue as regulations called for. Their deaths would have seemed like the results of very unfortunate timing. “Or not,” he finished as he considered it, although that plan still didn’t make sense, anyway. It wasn’t like killing them would  _ gain _ the man anything. “So, you’re rewiring the comm to get around the jam?” 

“Yes, slowly,” Thrawn said. “And the storm will block transmissions regardless, but—“ He cut himself off and went back to work. 

Eli could hear, again, his frustration. The Admiral was not a man meant for patiently waiting for rescue. He considered reminding his commanding officer that he was recovering from a concussion, but decided against it. “Can I take a look at that?” he said, instead. 

Now that the imminent danger of their situation was over, Eli was starting to feel the awkwardness and boredom setting in. He wondered if he should address their sleeping arrangements or just let it happen again. Now that he wasn’t delirious, it felt wrong. 

He wasn’t sure exactly when the shift had occurred, but his initial anger over the loss of his career path on Thrawn’s whim had, over the years, given way to first admiration, then to attraction. It was entirely inappropriate, he knew, first on the basis of rank, and it was ridiculous, anyway, to think that Thrawn was even remotely interested in him. 

The Chiss seemed above such things, and Eli wasn’t even entirely sure how relationships played out among Thrawn’s people. He’d never offered that information, and Eli certainly wasn’t going to ask. Thrawn hadn’t had any relationships with humans, and Eli figured that the two of them had both worked and lived together so closely for so long now that he definitely would have noticed otherwise. 

Eli had engaged in a brief fling or two, but his oddly singular position had made it difficult. He remembered the first time he’d realized that other officers considered him primarily as a politically advantageous conquest — a way to gain the Admiral’s favor by bedding his trusted aide. That had essentially killed his love life then and there. He didn't think much of trading for favors like that. 

Usually, it was easy enough to set his feelings aside and do his job, but there was nothing usual about any of this. 

 

—

 

A few hours passed, and the comm had been finished. They couldn’t test it until the storm had eased, though.

Thrawn considered Eli, watching as he sorted through their remaining supplies, his right arm still bound to his chest. He’d been intrigued by the young officer’s mind since meeting him on his exile planet, realizing he’d have been wasted on the practical career path he’d been set on. There was no question that Thrawn’s choice — his  _ manipulation _ of Commander Vanto, he told himself, there was no other word for it—had led the man into danger more than once—more danger than he would have encountered as a supply officer. 

Thrawn recalled the moment they had been attacked at the Imperial Academy, an attack he had engineered and led them into deliberately. He’d pushed Eli out of harm’s way then, and an idea was taking shape in the back of his mind, a way to keep him out of the danger to come…but he had to admit that there were personal considerations holding him back from making the final decision. 

He never thought that coming to live among the humans, to collect information about them, that he would come to consider one of them a friend. To want to turn that friendship into something more. The humans had different ideas about propriety than the Chiss did. Among his own people, a partnership like his and Eli’s was expected, even encouraged, to become physical. Such bonds didn’t happen often, and when they did, they were to be prized. 

But Chiss just didn’t see other species that way — interesting, certainly, but personally important? No. Thrawn had done enough damage to Eli’s career already, anyway. Eli would have laughed at the idea that Thrawn was considered a reckless hothead among his own people, but it was true. And this…this desire would have been seen as beyond even that nominally acceptable level of recklessness. 

Eli yawned, trying to cover it. 

“You should sleep,” Thrawn said. 

“Yeah,” Eli said, “I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing today.” 

“You’re still injured,” he pointed out. Eli shot him a look —  _ so are you _ , Thrawn could practically feel him thinking. “I don’t need as much sleep as you do,” Thrawn said. He  _ was _ tired, though, for once. The crash had physically affected him more than he wanted to admit. 

“I know it’s not ideal,” Eli said, gesturing at the tiny bed. “But, uh, I don’t mind sharing. Really.” 

“Very well,” Thrawn said, finally. 

 

—

 

Eli had been practically asleep on his feet, but now that the two of them were lying next to each other — stiffly, each trying desperately not to touch — he was wide awake. His heart was pounding in his ears, his shoulder was throbbing, every position was uncomfortable. 

“There are a lot of nights like this on Csilla,” Thrawn said, into the darkness, unprompted. 

“Not on Lysatra,” Eli said, relieved to have something to distract him. “At least, where I’m from, it never snows. I didn’t even  _ see  _ snow until I joined the Navy. Kind of wish I never will again, after this. No offense. What do you do with the time?” 

“Most of our dwellings are underground,” Thrawn said. “So our movements are not impeded by weather. And we are used to the cold. But in my people’s history, long, dark nights are used for storytelling, creative pursuits,” Eli could feel him shrug. “Among other things. Unfortunately, I am not particularly gifted as a storyteller. I understand that is a prized skill among Lysatrans, however.” 

“Are you…asking me to tell you a story, sir?” Eli said, laughing. Unless he had meant for Eli to take note of  _ among other things.  _ Which was just as ridiculous. 

There was a moment of silence. Eli felt like he had on his first trip into space. The same unformed sense of anticipation in his body, adrenaline suddenly coursing through him for no reason at all. Like he was standing at a precipice, preparing to jump. 

“I realize that you were impaired by the cold last night,” Thrawn said, every word careful. “But you suggested that we had known each other long enough to become less formal with each other.”

“I thought I remembered saying you could call me Eli,” he said. “If you want. When we don’t need to use titles, anyway. I mean, it’s common among officers who are friends.”

“Very well…Eli,” Thrawn said. “I would appreciate a story, yes.” 

_ This has got to be the strangest day of my life, and that’s saying something, _ Eli thought to himself. “All right, then, s—Thrawn. This is a pretty good one, about making bargains with the Chiss…”

The story was an old one, meant to be funny, a story of misfortune and misunderstandings piled up. Like a lot of Lysatran stories supposedly about the Chiss, it taught a moral lesson, this one about not making promises hastily. Eli told it as best as he could, watching Thrawn’s reactions and trying not to blush. 

“That was well-told, but entirely factually inaccurate,” Thrawn said. “My people are not ‘wily tricksters.” Eli could hear the inverted commas. “And we would not kidnap a human infant and replace it with a Chiss youngster.” 

“I mean, I know that,” Eli said. “But you asked.”

“That would be highly unethical, not to mention immediately obvious to the human parents in question,” Thrawn continued, ignoring him. Eli sat up and looked at the Chiss, who was doing his equivalent of a grin, just the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. 

Eli rolled his eyes. “You like cultivating the air of mystery, come on, admit it.” 

“ _ Admitting _ something would be out of character for me, Eli,” Thrawn said. 

And before Eli could connect his serious, scheming, unknowable commanding officer with the man who was lying beside him in the dark cracking  _ jokes  _ at his own expense, Thrawn rolled over and kissed him. 

Contrary to his many,  _ many  _ fantasies of this moment, the kiss was gentle, even hesitant. Allowing for the possibility that he would say no, Eli realized. Well, this might be a mistake,  _ definitely _ was against regulations, but hells, Eli planned to enjoy it. He yielded under the other’s touch, kissing back, making it clear that he wasn’t saying no at all. 

When they broke apart, gasping, Eli grinned. “I might revise my opinion about snow, sir,” he said, and Thrawn’s eyes flashed red as he pulled Eli closer.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Eli awoke the next morning with the familiar aches and pains seeming much less urgent. His limbs were entangled with Thrawn’s, his head pillowed against the Admiral’s chest. Thrawn was awake, fiddling with the short curls of dark hair brushing Eli’s neck. Eli shivered pleasantly at the touch. They’d been too careful of their injuries and exhaustion to do much more than touch, but even that had been so much better than he’d imagined. 

“Pretty sure I’m actually dying of hypothermia out there and this is an elaborate near-death experience,” Eli murmured. “There’s no way this is real.” 

Thrawn stiffened against him. “I would not let that happen to you.” 

Eli’s skin prickled with anticipation at the hint of a growl in Thrawn’s voice, the protectiveness. “I know,” he said. “And if this is…a one-time thing, I understand, I mean…” 

Silence. 

“Eli…among the Chiss, there is a tradition of —“ he said a word, not in Sy Bisti, but in his native language, all sibilants. Eli knew better than to attempt to pronounce it. “It’s a type of partnership forged between equals, under duress, a true bond of respect and attraction both. I consider this seriously, and if I’ve read you right, you do as well, although it is not something that human military tradition encourages. We can be discreet.” 

_ If I've read you right _ . Eli shook his head. When had Thrawn ever read someone wrong. “So, not a one time thing,” Eli breathed. 

“No,” Thrawn said.

“I never really cared about ‘human military tradition’ that much, anyway,” Eli said. 

 

—

 

“I believe it’s stopped snowing,” Thrawn said, later, and Eli couldn’t help feeling disappointed and weary. Of course, he wanted to get back to the Chimera, but this newfound bond, the realization that he and Thrawn had wanted the same thing all along…it didn’t feel like it could stand up to the routine of their daily lives.

“Time to test out the comm?” Eli said. 

“Yes,” Thrawn said, “first to the Chimera, then to the outpost.”

Eli nodded, grimly, thinking about their dead pilot. The talisman he had worn — protection and security. The token of someone who had loved him. “Commander Whitsun?”

Thrawn looked at him, at Eli’s injured shoulder, and his mouth tightened. “Yes, Commander Whitsun. I have…some thoughts.” 

The comm crackled and the transmission was faint, but the relief in Commander Faro’s voice was all too obvious. “Admiral, we’ve been trying to get in touch for two days,” she said. “What’s going on down there? The last we heard from the outpost, you’d taken off to come back to the Chimera, but when you missed the rendezvous, they stopped answering comms, and we couldn’t get through. Some massive weather system moved through and messed up the transmissions.” 

“Commander Faro, are you alone?” Thrawn asked, voice measured. “I have information for you only. Can you verify when this transmission is secure?”

“Of course, sir,” Faro said, voice businesslike, but undeniably curious. 

They exchanged a passphrase — Eli had one as well, each member of the senior staff did, for times like this—and Thrawn explained the situation to her. 

“I’ll send a shuttle immediately to your position, sir,” Faro said, icily. “And we’ll take Commander Whitsun into custody.” 

“No, Commander. My next call will be to the outpost,” Thrawn said. “You are to accept any story they offer as truth. Commander Vanto and I will await their rescue.”

“Sir, with all due respect, that’s crazy,” Faro said. 

“We will be fine,” Thrawn said. “We need more evidence of Whitsun’s treachery in order to remove him from this position. This far away from the Core, what we have is circumstantial. It could be explained away by mere bad luck, or a miscommunication.”

What Thrawn wasn’t saying was that the testimony of an alien, even one who held his rank, wasn’t enough to convince Central Command to care about the affairs of a distant outpost commander. Some might even welcome what Whitsun had tried to do—frontier justice, Eli thought. Taking care of a problem that the civilized Core personnel didn’t have the guts to get rid of themselves. 

Faro understood. “I hear you, Admiral,” she said, finally. “What can we do? Can we send any backup?”

“Just wait for our signal,” Thrawn said, and ended the call. 

 

—

 

“I dislike parts of this plan,” Thrawn said. “Our roles could easily be reversed, with less danger to you.” 

Eli shook his head. “No, they can’t. I’ve got to be the one to access the records — I know what I’m looking for. You’ve put me in danger before, Admiral. That can’t change, just because…”

Thrawn nodded. “Of course. All right, then,” he said. He kissed Eli, and then, deliberately, without hesitation, punched him in the face. 

He’d expected it, they’d talked about it, but Eli was still utterly shocked by the power of the blow. He went down, clutching his face and moaning. 

“I am sorry, Eli,” Thrawn said, from somewhere above him. 

“S’fine,” Eli gasped. “Got to look real. You definitely,” he stilled his hand from wiping the blood from his face. “owe me one, though.”  

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Be safe.” He slipped Eli the soporific from the medkit. 

Eli took it and grinned through the pain in his jaw. “This is a  _ crazy _ plan, sir. Even by your standards. See you on the other side.” 

Just before he lost consciousness, Eli heard Thrawn’s voice on the comm: “…Admiral Thrawn of the Chimera, requesting aid for myself and my assistant, Lieutenant Commander Vanto, at this location, outpost, please respond…” 

 

—

 

Eli woke up, and was relieved to find himself merely in the outpost’s sickbay, hooked up to an IV. There had been the potential that he’d be in a bacta tank, which they’d discussed, but it would have made his part in the plan more difficult. Instead, his arm and shoulder were dressed with bacta-infused bandages — something that remote places like this often did in order to stretch out their supply — and it already felt mostly healed. It must have been the better part of a day since they’d been brought to the outpost.  

He reached up, and felt a bandage on the welt on his head, as well. Hopefully, they’d bought the ruse that Eli had lost consciousness in the crash. There was no sign of Thrawn, or of any of the outpost’s staff. He sat up, feeling only a little dizzy from the effects of the drug and whatever was in the IV, unhooked it, and set off to find a computer terminal. 

_ There it is, _ Eli thought with satisfaction. It hadn’t taken long, the outpost’s security was trivial, and sorting through the logs of supply purchases and accounts from Central Command was second nature to Eli. It was obvious that they didn’t add up at all, and the way the thefts had been covered up was completely amateurish.  _ It’s not even that many credits,  _ Eli thought.  _ That bastard was willing to kill to keep  _ this  _ pathetic racket going?  _

_ “ _ Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” a clipped, Coruscanti-accented voice interrupted his thoughts. “Nice to see you up and around. A miraculous recovery for a man with a supposedly severe head injury.” 

“Commander Whitsun,” Eli said, dread sinking into his stomach like a stone. 

“You’re terrible guests,” Whitsun said. “This is  _ my  _ station, Lieutenant Commander. You’d think a  _ man _ like Admiral Thrawn, with an entire Star Destroyer at his command would leave my piece alone. But no, he writes his own rules, doesn’t he?” 

“I’ve got the evidence of your embezzlement. I’ve already beamed it to the Chimera,” Eli said. “You’re headed for court-martial, Commander.” 

“Everyone  _ embezzles _ , Commander,” Whitsun waved a hand at Eli, brushing aside the accusation as though it meant nothing. Eli curled his good hand into a fist. He’d run into too many men like this, people who were in the Navy for no other reason than to take advantage of it. Who thought the rules didn’t apply to them because they were from the Core. Because they were from a family whose last name supposedly meant something. 

“No,” Whitsun continued. “I thought I saw an opportunity to do some real good for the Empire while you were here. A chance to clear an honored rank for the  _ right person _ . An alien standing on the bridge of an Imperial flagship,” he sneered. “Accompanied by a Wild Space hick. It’s an outrage.”

_ He had us shot down for that _ ? Eli thought. The sight of Ensign Zavir, their pilot, pinned by the wreckage, flashed across his mind. The Ensign had been a  _ local _ , Eli realized all at once. Expendable. Another  _ Wild Space hick _ to a man like this.  

Suddenly, he realized he had no weapon. He was half-dressed and half-healed and completely alone. He watched as Whitsun realized it too, a smirk crossing his cultured face. And there was a tiny, barely-there expression that saved Eli’s life. 

Whitsun looked at Eli’s still-bandaged _ right _ hand. Eli was left-handed. 

He drove his fist as hard as he could into Whitsun's stomach. The man dropped immediately, caught completely off guard, moaning and retching. 

“Admiral Thrawn is your superior, Commander," Eli said. "and I mean your superior all the way round, as an officer and in general."  

Eli considered Whitsun for a moment as he continued whimpering. He thought about giving him a kick in the head for good measure. He swallowed hard, his pulse throbbing in his ears. 

“Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn’s cool voice had never been more welcome. “I see the prisoner is resisting arrest. Well done on subduing him.”  

“Yes, sir,” Eli said, through gritted teeth. “Can we get the hells out of here now?” 

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn said. “Back, as you say, to civilization.”


	5. Epilogue

Eli pressed the comm button at Thrawn’s door, his mouth dry. They hadn’t been alone since returning, and the more time that passed, the more Eli was starting to convince himself he’d imagined the whole thing.

They’d both spent time in bacta tanks (“Just to be safe,” the ship’s medical droid had sniffed when he’d protested) and written reports -- heavily edited reports -- to be sent back to Central Command. Commander Whitsun was in the brig, awaiting transport to Coruscant and his court-martial. 

Thrawn was seated behind his desk, framed by his collection of artwork. 

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” he greeted Eli. Titles. Business first. “I was just reviewing your report on the events that took place on Vria.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli said, taking a seat. 

“You have left out significant factors concerning Whitsun’s motivation,” Thrawn said. “May I ask why?”

Eli’s report made it seem like the Whitsun’s skimming off the top and sale of supplies were worth more credits than they really were. Eli hadn’t changed any numbers, but he’d simply substituted what  _ he  _ would have done with the accounting as Whitsun’s future plans. Whitsun had been an indifferent accountant, Eli was not. He hadn’t included the Lieutenant’s comments about an alien and a Wild Space hick on an Imperial flagship. 

“Because I wanted him in prison,” Eli said, slowly. “Not given another unimportant duty in the middle of nowhere and a chance to work his way back up the ranks. And there are people in the Admiralty who will care more about the supplies he sold off and the credits he made than the Ensign he had killed.” 

“Ah,” Thrawn said. “Politics.” 

“Yeah,” Eli agreed. “Something like that.” The Ensign had died, and Thrawn and Eli had almost died, and for what? No grand plan, no intricate cover-up. Because they weren’t where men like Whitsun thought they were supposed to be. He’d kept the little carved talisman.  _ Protection _ , he thought, every time he looked at it. 

Thrawn was looking at him with the variation on his usual non-expression that said he was plotting something. 

“What?” Eli said. 

“I was picturing you among my people,” Thrawn said. “I think you would find the experience interesting. But not half as interesting as they would find you, Eli.”

Eli didn’t know what to say to that. But, as it turned out, Thrawn wasn’t expecting a response. He had Eli backed against the desk, pinned there, scattering datacards and flimsiplast to the floor before Eli knew it was happening. 

Thrawn had watched his aide closely over the years, observed his reactions to every kind of situation, but this was new. Eli’s skin was hot under his hands, his body slack against him as they ground against each other. As Thrawn moved to unfasten Eli’s uniform tunic, climbing fully atop the desk, he was struck by Eli’s grin. He was biting back laughter.

“What?” Thrawn asked, murmuring it in Eli’s ear, enjoying the shiver it provoked.

“You, ah--” Eli gasped, “You moved the statues. I saw it when I came in.” The room was decorated, of course, with paintings, sculptures, and other objects he had collected from various worlds over the years. There had been a row of delicate, oddly shaped glass vessels at the edge of Thrawn’s desk. Now, they’d been relegated to a side table. Eli threw a glance at where they now sat. “Guess you had the same idea about this desk that I did.” 

“Very observant,” Thrawn said, shoving the tunic aside.

“Learned from the best.” Eli pulled him down, and they didn’t speak again for a very long time. 

  
  
  



End file.
